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Post by Moonlight on Apr 19, 2011 21:58:02 GMT -5
( OOC & Discussion) As the thief wandered by way of the rafters, entering a quiet room through the gaps meant for the dracheas. Comfortably cloaked by the shadows, hidden from sight. She continued to walk in her half crouching position, only to pause. It seemed another man had been waiting for the Marquee, whom was entering. Perhaps another noble. A thought that was confirmed without pause. "Lord Bennet," the Marquee acknowledge with a nod of his head, though dipping it no further than good manners of his exalted rank dictated. "Milord ... I believe you requested to continue this discussion at your own manor. Do you not believe my servants trustworthy?" the other queried calmly, arching a brow. Earning a soft chuckle from Marquee Seymour. "It is not a matter of trust alone. I choose my allies carefully, in everything. I have kept this conversation private for a reason. Dealing with death is never something others find comfortable, and more so when it has to do with royalty."
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Zorayda
Guardian
Ride the Storm
Posts: 1,298
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Post by Zorayda on Apr 20, 2011 20:10:34 GMT -5
Solomon was incredibly bored.
Sighing softly, he longed to scratch the back of his head, his shaggy, dirty-blonde locks tickling the nape of his neck... His longbow stretched across his back, hiding all but the hilts of his two long knives he loved to use in close-quarter combat. His electric blue eyes scanned the room, wishing that something would happen... he was more or less the bodyguard for Seymour at the moment, the Marquee. Other jobs he'd been hired for included assassination, among other things.
Solomon knew what the Marquee was basically saying, but he'd learned to tune out all those dark plans Seymour always planned... it was a daily occurrence with the Marquee. Suddenly, his mind snapped to attention, calling for him to be aware of something... his instincts were telling him that something was about to happen. Tensed, his fingers itched to grab his bow, but he fought the urge, wondering how he'd look to the people in the room--like a crazy, paranoid ranger, probably. Frowning, he kept his ears and eyes open...
A soft creaking noise made him look up suddenly in surprise, his hand reaching for his bow and nocking it in record time--Solomon shot an arrow next to where the noise came from, knowing it wouldn't hit... but it would certainly scare whatever it was that lurked up in the rafters.
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Post by Moonlight on Apr 20, 2011 20:37:27 GMT -5
The shadow cloaked figure continued to silently walk across the rafter as the conversation continued, though only hinting more and more at dishonesty among nobility. Typical. Her jaw set in annoyance, before slipping through two tapestries that hung from the high ceiling on either side of it. Yet her breath barely seemed to escape her lips in the darkness, little even possibly hinting at her presence as she made for the open window across the room. Less than a horse length away, now The sharp 'twang' of a bowstring capturing her attention, only to have a glint of steel flash past her face.
A loud metallic 'shiing' audible as it ricocheted off of the stone ceiling.
She tensed, before starting forward. Again unnoticed. Planning to jump from the rafter and through the gap, knowing she could make it. Only to abruptly stop as the wood let out a creaking groan when she stepped closer to the window. A pin could have dropped.
The nobleman swinging around, crackling lightning bursting to life around his hands. The gears were already turning in his mind before the thief could move. She had clearly gotten in easily. An opportunity had dropped into his lap. He was not going to pass it up. "So kind of you to join us," he drawled, tone conversational, before lashing out in attack as she ran along the sturdy wood. Black charred it directly behind her. Once. Twice.
The third catching her dead on. The thief's lithe frame falling limp by force of nature, clinging to consciousness by a thread as she fell from the high rafter. A crash rattled the room, a large clay vase in pieces now. What was left streaked with blood, sharp edges clearly apparent. Any remaining electricity vanished from his skin after a moment, only leaving his hands warm.
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Zorayda
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Posts: 1,298
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Post by Zorayda on Apr 21, 2011 0:22:31 GMT -5
Solomon frowned when he didn’t get a response from the arrow he’d shot, feeling rather foolish as eyes went to him. His face flushed, a strange contrast against his tanned face, but he grinned and shrugged it off easily.
“Eh, thought I saw a rat, is all,” he said with a hint of humor, hoping to get everyone to start talking amongst themselves again. But something entirely different happened to take everyone’s attention away from the ranger—a loud creaking noise in the rafters above them.
I KNEW I heard something up there, he thought triumphantly, glad that he wasn’t just overly paranoid. Seymour shot a few of his intimidating bolts at the sound and Solomon shuddered, remembering why he’d stayed under the man’s command after so long… The young man sucked in a sharp breath, however, when a young woman fell from the rafters—her brown hair whipped around her face as she crashed into the large vase below.
Solomon lurched forward, worried about her well-being—the shards of the vase were obviously coated in her blood—but the Marquee got there first, sneering as usual… Solomon hung back reluctantly, watching them and hoping the girl wasn’t too badly hurt… and feeling mildly impressed at her skills in stealth.
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Post by Moonlight on Apr 21, 2011 13:52:07 GMT -5
The pale haired nobleman coolly observed the young woman, striding forward calmly. Nudging her limp frame with the toe of his boot, noting with satisfaction she gave no reaction. Between his magic and her fall ... entirely vulnerable. Ponderance clearly visible in his ice blue eyes, kneeling to remove the pouch tied to her belt. Priceless heirlooms, though small, filling it. Clever little vixen - She knew not to try her luck with larger ones.
Setting the bag on the table after a moment, observing the slender brunette. Ignoring the blood streaked remains of the vase, sparing the pouch only one more glance. "... Fetch Roshan, Bennet."
The apparently elder noble nodding promptly, quick to leave. As if fear had been struck into him from that one display. And it had been entirely out of the blue. But it was clear Seymour had something other than conventional punishment for the thief, such as branding, in mind. Something requiring advanced as well as specialized magic, judging from his request.
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Zorayda
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Post by Zorayda on Apr 21, 2011 14:02:35 GMT -5
Solomon raised an eyebrow as Seymour fiddled through the girl's belongings as she lay unconscious, noting their value and putting her skill as a thief at the back of his mind. Taking her state of health as unsaid permission to approach, he gave her a quick once-over, touching her hair lightly in fear of hurting her. He could hear her breath, though soft--just passed out. However, if they didn't take care of the bleeding, she'd die... but Solomon was unsure whether or not the Marquee cared.
"Sir..." he began cautiously. "Shall I take her to the infirmary?" His first instinct was to grab the girl into his arms and carry her there, but he knew better in the company of his employer and master... it really was irking the young ranger.
But then Seymour called for Roshan's company... the blonde furrowed his brow in confusion. Was he planning on using some kind of magic on her?
"..." Solomon sat back on his knees, kneeling, still glancing at the girl to make sure she wasn't going to die... he was dying to ask Seymour what he planned for her, but the Marquee was unpredictable, and questioning him probably wasn't the most intelligent move.
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Post by Moonlight on Apr 21, 2011 14:23:48 GMT -5
Seymour set the bag, along with his heirlooms inside of it, on a small table that had been next to the vase. Candlelight among the walls made the carved sapphire egg at the topmost bag glisten, seeming to glow from inside out. The blonde Marquee waiting near silently for the mage he had requested, noting Solomon's request and apparent concern. Listening to the thief's shallow breathing, watching the stain of blood slowly spread. It was good, that Roshan was already capable. For it meant he would not be wasting his time and effort with this one.
However low she may be.
Glancing up when the door reopened, Lord Bennet leading the dark haired mage inside. It clicked shut with a slight whine of leather hinges, the older woman carrying a padded satchel of her tools. Seymour nodded for the lower ranking noble to clear off the table that they would obviously be using, before sliding back the loose sleeves of his fine garments. Plucking the smaller thief from the sharp remains of the vase with ease, suggesting that the nobleman was far stronger than he appeared. Disdainful of her blood running down his arms, but setting her across the smooth wood now.
But the dark haired mage's gaze remained on her lord for a long moment, curious. "Milord?"
"The Tempero, if you will," the Marquee requested calmly, not batting an eye. Yet the mage's facade flickered surprise; clearly at the vase, satchel, and result. Also in that he was requesting her most advanced glyph set.
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Zorayda
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Post by Zorayda on Apr 21, 2011 14:32:03 GMT -5
Solomon’s mouth twisted with annoyance when the Marquee ignored him. It was truly one of his pet peeves… the mage walked in, hiding his surprise at the scene, and Solomon found a corner to watch everything from afar. At least Seymour seemed to want to keep the girl alive. Though she would probably end up working for him… her skill had more than likely spawned Seymour’s interest. His eyebrow quirked when Seymour requested something called the Tempero… Solomon knew he’d heard that somewhere before, but he’d forgetten where…
Solomon cleared the table quickly before going back to his corner, obeying silently and swiftly to avoid conflict and wondering what the pair of men were planning.
He found himself becoming slightly irritated when the Marquee touched the girl, her soft curves touching him, but the ranger quickly dashed that thought from his mind. She was pretty, but obviously far too much trouble for that beauty—it wouldn’t be worth it.
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Post by Moonlight on Apr 21, 2011 14:57:42 GMT -5
Roshan nodded after a moment in response to the Marquee's request, pulling a large crystal flask of a silvery substance from the padded leather bag. The substance inside seemed to glow, even, rather resembling molten metal. Accompanying the flask was a thin piece of wood, no larger than a quill, with a barely visible piece of metal jutting out of it. But once the most important supplies were laid out, her gaze moved back to Seymour.
"I shall have to remove the girl's tunic, Milord. You recall, perhaps, how many glyphs are needed for this set," Roshan said quietly, suggesting that the high ranking nobleman had experience with it before. But also, in that same breath, suggesting that it hadn't been on a woman. Removing complications of ... extra attributes.
He simply raised one shoulder and let it drop, uncaring. However, it was then that his pale blue gaze sought the ranger. It would be far easier, with Solomon included. At least for a time. "Would you care to join us? It is not as if your connection would be very stable if you are that far back while it is created," Seymour stated calmly, his tone almost bored. But casting Roshan a slight glance, his unspoken words to her clear.
She only inclined her head towards him in acknowledgment, fingers deftly removing bloody shards of clay, suggesting practice as a healer. Then taking a small knife to the young woman's tattered tunic after a moment, bringing it up the bloodied side. It wasn't but moments more that the old tunic was removed, allowed to fall to the floor, leaving the prone thief in only her ripped and bloodied sarashi.
Roshan's hand moved to unstopper the flask after a moment and pouring some of the shimmering substance into a wide crystal bowl, the other grabbing the needle. Starting near the young woman's wrist, though the already long and drawn out process was clearly going to become even more tedious. The young woman's lithe frame was clearly muscular, making easier to bend her needle or break it off in her skin.
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Zorayda
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Post by Zorayda on Apr 21, 2011 15:24:15 GMT -5
Solomon twanged at his bowstring absently, his eyes alight with curiosity as the mage pulled out a flask of silver liquid of some sort... it reminded him of a blacksmith, pouring molten steel into a mold to create tools and swords. He perked right up to the next words, however, his mouth curving in an almost imperceptable smile. Solomon was quite the closet lecher... but he remembered that she was unconscious and bleeding and that sobered him right up. He also became a bit more confused when the mage mentioned glyphs... he knew a bit about those--magical markings on the skin that did all sorts of things, though what these were for, the ranger was unsure.
"Um... my connection, milord?" Solomon asked, obeying and slowly walking forward. He suddenly felt a bit... nervous. "What does that entail?" He asked slowly, looking at the mage more than Seymour. Solomon tried averting his eyes from the half-clothed girl upon the table, but he couldn't help but glance every now and then--she certainly was beautiful, with pale skin and defined muscles, substantial curves...
He shook his head like a lion trying to stave off mosquitoes, focusing again on the task at hand and waiting for someone to explain what was going on.
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